


How to Take it Slow

by Basingstoke



Series: Time and Privacy [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Developing Relationship, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-20 15:42:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19994662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basingstoke/pseuds/Basingstoke
Summary: David has a few questions for Patrick regarding what he's looking for in their new relationship. Set between 4x1 and 4x2.





	How to Take it Slow

Patrick locks up, turns around, and finds David standing behind the counter with a clipboard and a sly half-smile. "What's up?" Patrick asks.

"I thought we could play a little game," David says. 

He's immediately hardening in his pants. He feels fourteen around this man, awkward and horny and confused and thrilled. He swallows and tries to act like a thirty-year-old business professional. "Okay." 

"I am fully on board with taking things slow. It's actually very hot, like a super-long Tantric edging thing, but I'm guessing eventually...at some point in the future..." David's little smile deepens as he draws this out. God, he loves it when David plays with him. "In six months, or a year maybe, you could conceivably be interested in taking off your pants. Is that fair to say?"

Patrick nods. "Maybe sooner." His throat is very dry and his whole body feels light.

"Oh, I'm not pushing, this is legitimately hot. I'm ogling your forearms every day like Victorian pornography. So while I'm getting all these ideas, you know, in the interest of research and communication and our relationship, I thought we could go through this checklist of sex acts and get a preliminary 'interested' or 'not interested.' Nothing binding, of course, just some ideas for things to try in the future."

Patrick looks at the clipboard. "You have...a checklist of sex acts? On a clipboard?" His voice is very high by the end of the semi-sentence.

"Mm-hm. I'm getting a yes to something, here, is it a yes for checklists or a yes for clipboards? Either is fine." There's a bright, teasing gleam in David's eyes. 

"A big yes for sex checklists," Patrick says. David snorts slightly in laughter. Patrick slips behind the counter, intending to kiss him until their lips are numb, but David presses a forefinger to his chest before he can touch him. 

"Kissing will skew the data," David says. 

Patrick can feel David's fingertip in his thighs and his stomach and in the ringing in his ears. He exhales. "Will unbuttoning my pants skew the data? Because I'm in actual pain." 

"I think that may assist the data collection process," David says, biting his lip again. They both slip into the back room and Patrick pops his button and leans back against the stack of inventory boxes, flattening his hands against the cardboard; David sits on the small desk, back straight, crossing one leg over his knee and balancing the clipboard on his shin. 

"You are so incredibly sexy," Patrick says helplessly. 

"Thank you. I never skip leg day," David says. "Now. I'm going to say some things, and you just react. No wrong answers. We'll start with some controls. Haberdashery." 

"Um." He likes the shape of David's mouth around the word "haberdashery." "That's hats, right?"

"Hats and accessories. Pocket squares, ties, socks."

"No to hats, yes to you saying 'haberdashery.'"

"Ooh," David says, and yes, yes to that too, both the sound and the shape of David's mouth. "Fortunately I left a space for notes." 

"I'm going to need a copy of this paper. Unless you're making fake notes, and then I'll need to cry," Patrick says. 

David turns the clipboard around. The notes are not fake. Patrick takes a deep, calming breath. 

"I think we can say yes to secretary kink," David says.

"It's not--I don't like power difference, I would never hit on an actual secretary, that's creepy. It's...you setting this up, thinking about it, _making that list_ \--"

"So....if I were, for example, to slip a nude photo into your pocket in the morning...well, that's a clear yes. And if I texted you a series of directions to where you might find me waiting for you..."

Patrick really can't nod hard enough. David grins down at his clipboard. 

"Little games, check. That will be fun. So, some more basic stuff. Oral, receiving? Mm-hm," David says, looking at Patrick's face. "Oral, giving? Okay, yes. Hands, we've already established, big fan." David is watching him through his lashes. "Frotting. I know you're going to love that. Grabbing me by the ass and rubbing dick against dick until...."

Patrick makes a noise in the back of his throat and closes his eyes.

"Yes. Exactly. Next, coming on my face?" 

"Oh my god," Patrick says. 

David makes an audible check mark, pen scratching on paper. "Coming on my back? Or my stomach?" 

"Please?" 

"Coming in my ass," David says, his voice dropping low. 

Patrick opens his eyes. "Uh."

"No?"

"Does it hurt? I don't want to hurt you. It sounds like it hurts."

"Ugh, you're so fucking sweet. It doesn't hurt if you do it right. So I guess that's a no on floggers and figging....Spanking?" He looks up from his list.

Patrick frowns. "I mean--a little? Or--no." He wrinkles his nose. "I don't like feeling like I have to make someone do something." 

"Ah. Alternately but relatedly, if, for example, I might want you so, so, so bad, so bad you had to tie me up"--here David crosses his wrists over his head, pen balancing lightly between two fingers--"and you just feed me a little bit of dick so I don't choke myself, because I'm _so_ hungry for your cock--so that's a yes, let me write that down." 

He's so hard he's leaking. He swallows, throat clicking, feeling like he's been glued to these boxes as David does literally write that whole thing down in what looks like full sentences. Fucking fuckfuck. He's going to come in his pants. 

Then David flips to the second page. Patrick makes a hollow sound in his throat. 

David bites both lips as he smiles. "Next. How do you feel about fingers in your ass?"

"Pro. In favor. Already done that." His voice is rough; he swallows and digs his fingers into the cardboard.

"Ooh, okay. And toys in the butt? Yes?" David raises his eyebrows. "And me snuggling up behind you, kissing that spot on your neck that you like, one thigh between your legs and my dick slow and sweet inside you?" 

"Definite try. Definite. But I like face to face," Patrick says. 

"Oh, there will be many experiments using a full set of variables, no need to worry about that. Now. Cross-dressing?" David tilts his head to one side. 

"Um--I don't have an issue, obviously--" He looks David up and down. 

"Why obviously? This is menswear," David says, indicating his knee-length hoodie, slim leggings, and lug-sole heeled boots. 

"My mistake. I don't know much about clothes or have a lot of feelings about them." 

David narrows his eyes. "Mm."

"You don't believe me?" 

"Not entirely, but I believe that you believe that, so I'm letting it go."

"Well. I don't fit into girl clothes--" 

"No, put that aside, I know how to shop. If you had a perfectly fitting dress?" David looks him over. "Not really doing anything for you? Or if I put on something ultra-butch, like lumberjack clothes..."

"I think that would be weird? I like the way you look."

David looks down, a soft and very real smile on his face. 

"I've never met anyone like you," Patrick says. 

"Same," David says, almost too quiet to hear. He looks up into Patrick's eyes. "Ugh, this was supposed to be dirty and we made it cute, we're so bad at this," he says, sliding off the desk. He strokes Patrick's chest and leans in to kiss him sweetly. 

Patrick opens his mouth and makes it dirty. He pulls David close and feels an unmistakable hardness prodding him in the stomach through the layers. "Let's cross something off right now." 

"But my nascent wrist bone fetish!" David says. "Okay, so this space is awkward but I'm thinking we can manage oral, and you can come in my mouth unless you really want to come on my face, so that's two--"

Patrick falls to his knees and ducks his head under David's sweater hem; he doesn't stop to think, but slides David's leggings down his hips and mouths at his cock. 

"Or that, that's also good," David sighs. He pulls his undershirt and sweater over his head but leaves them tangled on his arms so when Patrick looks up he sees the long pale sweep of David's hip and flank and arm ending in a bundle of soft midnight. He strokes his hands over David's fine, silky skin, smooth on his sides and roughly speckled with hair on his stomach and chest. He tastes hot, electric dick on his tongue for the first time. 

He has no idea what he's doing but it doesn't matter at all. He keeps his mouth open and reaches into his shorts and oh fuck, he's already done; he has to press his face into David's thigh as he comes into his hand. He breathes, heavily, smelling the intimate musk and strange perfume of the tender crease of David's thigh. "Tell me what to do," he whispers into David's skin. He looks up. "Tell me what to do." 

David is biting his lip. "Okay that's too hot. I did _not_ have all these kinks before I met you," he says, his voice rising into a whine. 

Patrick loves it. He kisses the inside of David's thigh and widens his eyes at him.

"Okay, okay okay. You adorable virgin. Keep your jaw open and sort of lick with the back of your tongue," David says, and he demonstrates, it looks like, even though Patrick can't see what he's doing. He takes David's dick back into his mouth and tries it, moving the back of his tongue instead of the front, and oh. Oh. 

He inhales, feeling small quivers of David's hips moving his dick over Patrick's tongue painting the inside of his mouth with bitter fluid. "And pull back," David says, and Patrick does, looking up at him, and David comes on his neck with a deep sigh. 

And that was the first time they had sex. Patrick is going to mark it on the calendar, he is going to give David chocolates and flowers every year--no, every month--every week? Every week is too much. He's in love, he thinks. He's in love in love in love. 

David folds gracefully into his lap and rests his bare ass on Patrick's knees. His hands, still caught up in his sweater, rest behind Patrick's neck, and he presses his forehead to Patrick's. "That was amazing," David says. 

"I need some practice."

"You are perfect," David says

"I _want_ to practice."

"Oh, um, in that case, building skills is, um, good for you," David says, "and I can definitely assist." His eyes sparkle even in the twilight. 

Patrick kisses him. He closes his eyes and rests for a minute with his hands on David's hips. "My shirt is soaked in semen," he says. 

"It is. I didn't want to choke you on your first time." 

"I don't care, except that I don't know how I'm going to walk home without getting arrested."

"Ew. Take a sweater from the store?" 

"We need to sell those sweaters."

"Take my sweater and I'll go home in my shirt."

Patrick feels that in his heart. "You'd do that?" 

"Of course," David says, and kisses him. 

I love you, Patrick thinks, but it's much much too early to say that; it's only been a few days. "Give me your undershirt and keep the sweater."

"That does make more sense. My nipples will get chafed, but we do what we have to do."

"I'll kiss them better," Patrick whispers into his mouth. 

"Deal," David says between kisses. "We need to find a room."

"I'm working on it. I pay for my room in trade--stop," Patrick says, feeling David smile. "Stop. Don't say it." 

"I must say it," David says, delight playing over his eyes and mouth. 

"Say it into my hand," Patrick says, covering his mouth.

"I thought I was the Julia Roberts and instead I'm the Richard Gere!" David says, slightly muffled by his palm. They both snort with laughter; Patrick tips his face up as David touches their foreheads together. 

"Room and board are part of my wages at Ray's," Patrick says firmly and without innuendo. "I have enough savings to afford a security deposit and furniture and I _could_ make rent work, but I don't want to deplete my resources before the store is established. We might have to call the electrician again."

David is focusing and comprehending; Patrick can see it in his eyes. "I know. I technically have another twenty-four thousand--I mean, I have access to the account, and I did earn it, but my sister helped--but it's like, that's family money. They would give it to me, probably? But I only want to fail with my share."

"We're not failing," Patrick says. "All successful businesses start with negative cash flows. So once we get our feet under us, I'll get my own place."

"And we won't have to bang on the boxes."

"And banging on the boxes will be optional rather than mandatory."

"Once again you are the brains of the operation," David says, kissing his forehead. "Dinner?" 

"I have to go back to Ray's and start on his territorial taxes."

David makes a disappointed noise and stands up, which lets Patrick stare openly at his dick as he shimmies out of his shirt and sweater. It's kind of hypnotic, how the shaft and each testicle move separately, and how the hair forms varied designs over his thighs and groin and belly. 

"I'm going to make a spreadsheet from your checklist," Patrick says. He strips out of his spermy shirt carefully. "Will this stain?" 

"You've never gotten come on your shirt before?" 

"Um. Women don't make me come in my pants, because it turns out I'm gay," Patrick says. "So no." He just never--at _thirty_. He never considered that the problem with his relationships was that he wasn't looking at the right gender. He's going to be embarrassed about this for a while.

David kisses his cheek. "I will absolutely not make fun of that. I was the gayest child imaginable so I was super confused when I figured out I liked all genders."

"All?" Patrick asks. 

"Some of my partners have been women, some of my partners have been men, and some of my partners have been nonbinary or agender. There's an entire spectrum between male and female."

"I have never in my entire life thought about that," Patrick says, wondering. 

"You've never had to. I thought I was genderfluid for a hot minute and I did a lot of reading and found a support group and, um, banged a number of people in the group and got kicked out, but I did figure out that I'm definitely male, just, like, soft male, you know, and now I'm regretting bringing this up." David squinches his eyes closed. 

Patrick kisses him. "I'll google gender after I do Ray's taxes."

"Feel free to ask me if you have any questions because clearly I will just say things in a giant spill of honesty," David says, still wincing. 

He puts on David's undershirt, which is unbelievably soft and smells strongly of his skin and sweat. "And after walking home smelling like you, I'm going to have to jerk off in the shower."

David makes an outraged noise. "I do not smell!" 

"You have a smell," Patrick says. 

"I smell like hand-mixed cologne made for my personal body chemistry in Paris!" 

"And sweat," Patrick says, ducking his nose into David's shirt. 

"I hate you. And I am putting gross sweat kink on the list." 

He can't believe the list is _actually real_. He leans over David's shoulder and snatches it up as soon as David finishes his revisions. 

David kisses him. "We should go before it gets dark." 

Patrick kisses him. "We should."

David kisses him. "I'll see you tomorrow." 

Patrick refrains from kissing him and backs away. He gets tangled in the curtain and David helps him out, biting away a smile. 

"Rinse your shirt in cold water. Hot will set the stain," David says. 

"In Ray's sink?" Patrick says, wincing. 

"Oh god. Leave it in the sink here. But you're in charge of remembering it tomorrow because I definitely won't."

"Okay," Patrick says, taking it back to the makeshift employee bathroom. When he emerges, David is right outside the door to swoop him into another kiss. 

"My shirt does amazing, amazing things for your back muscles. And your shoulders. And your pecs." David is feeling him all over as he says this into Patrick's mouth. He finishes with another kiss and tries to tug him back into the back room. 

"No, I honestly have to work!" Patrick says. 

"Your self-control will literally kill me. I'm going to die of--wanting you so bad," David says, with an odd hitch in the sentence. 

"We do what we have to do," Patrick echoes back to him. 

"Okay. Fuck. My nipples are already chafing, so I'll go. Please keep the shirt. Please definitely keep the shirt and show me the spreadsheet, but only in private." David is spinning in slow circles as he moves to the front door and fumbles at the lock, like the huge smiles twisting across his face are throwing his whole body off balance. He finally gets the door open. "Good night, Patrick."

"Good night, David."

David lingers outside the store, almost but not quite touching the window, and then runs off. Patrick tips his head back and stares at the ceiling. 

He wants to shout. He wants to yell "I am stupidly in love with David Rose!" at the ceiling, hear it bouncing back at him, feel the vibrations fill the store. But it's only been a few days, and it is way too early to tell David that he adores him from the top of his curly head to the bottom of his giant feet, so he closes his mouth and just smiles at nothing. 

end.


End file.
